Dipper vs Norman (PARAPINES)
by President ORB
Summary: PARAPINES AU- An essay contest to win a free trip to a paranormal convention wound up with two winners instead of one: Dipper AND Norman! Forced to share a hotel room, and a convention panel, what will it take to stop them from being at each other's' throats, and become (maybe more than) friends? Rated for thought-bubble violence, mind-f***ing, and gay cuddles. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: SUBMIT ONE

**PARAPINES AU- An essay contest to win a free trip to a paranormal convention wound up with two winners instead of one: Dipper AND Norman! Forced to share a hotel room, and a convention panel, what will it take to stop them from being at each other's' throats, and become (maybe more than) friends? Rated for thought-bubble violence, mind-f***ing, and gay cuddles. Please R&R!**

* * *

**INFO: Dipper is 17, and Norman is 16 (but only a few months away from being 17 himself). This AU does not involve Gravity Falls as a location AT ALL! Sorry! Dipper (and his twin sister, Mabel) is from Piedmont, California, and Norman is from Blithe Hollow, Massachusetts. Set in The Present. Paranormal Convention based on MiParaCon 3, with my own research and fiction included to add more flair. :) I also mention the "Anti-Ecto Act," which is merely something brought up in several Danny Phantom fanfiction works. It doesn't actually exist.**

**Trigger Warnings: Boy x Boy cuddles happen in this story, as well as thought-bubble violence, and occasional mind-f***ing. There might be a little language, likely only from Dipper or random adults. (Individual TWs and Word Counts will be listed with each chapter.)**

**Now, enough with the technicalities! Let's get on with the story you've all been waiting for! **

**Chapter One: ****Submit One**

**Trigger Warning: **None

**Word Count: **1,316

* * *

He sighed, pushing his chair back from the desk. With a short yawn, Norman stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Looking back at the computer, he smiled; he had finally completed the last draft of the essay. It was ready to enter in the contest.

He leaned in again as his hand found the computer mouse, slowly gliding it across the desk. A couple clicks of the mouse, a few words typed in here and there, and one final click to submit, and the essay was off into the World Wide Web, on its own, ready to be judged by a group of well-known experts.

* * *

"FINALLY!" he shouted, sitting up on his bed.

"You finally done?" his sister asked, looking over at him happily. Dipper smirked back at her,

"It's proofread. All the details are there. It's PERFECT!" he explained. He hopped off his bed and scurried to his desk, picking up a large, yellow envelope. He quickly rushed back, stuffing the twenty-three pages of loose-leaf paper into the envelope, and sealing it. Grinning with pride, he rushed out the door, down the hall, into the kitchen, out the front door, onto the front porch, down the front walk, and right up to the mailbox. He paused for a moment to glance down at the envelope he was clutching in his hands, and then he slowly pulled open the lid of the mailbox, and placed the envelope inside, trying not the bend it too much as it curled with the curve of the container. He took a breath and shut the mailbox, quickly lifting the plastic, red flag.

* * *

For such a patient guy, the waiting shouldn't have been so unbearable, and yet, here he was, tapping his foot, standing in the doorway, waiting for the mailman. He glanced back at the grandfather clock in the hall. The mailman usually drops off the mail by 10 AM on Saturdays, but it was already twenty minutes past. He turned back, his foot tapping harder. It had been two weeks. The judges had made their decisions, and they had already sent out the notice letters. He was supposed to have gotten his sometime this week, and if didn't show up today, he wasn't going to_ last_ the extended wait to Monday. He hastily took another glance back at the clock in the hall, but it was the same time as before.

Suddenly, his pocket vibrated, the theme from Halloween faintly singing from it. He reached in and pulled out his cell phone, noticing he'd received a new text message.

He sighed; it was probably from his sister. Since she started college, she spent most of her days on her brand-new smart phone, updating facebook and twitter, texting everyone on the entire planet, and playing with all those pointless apps that no one could possibly find a use for (or so he figured). He was somewhat surprised, however, to find the text was from his closest friend, Neil.

"Got your letter yet?" the text read. Norman remembered letting Neil in on what he had been relentlessly studying and writing about for over a month. The essay had to be perfect, so he made Neil promise not to bother him too much, and the ginger boy actually took it to heart, having not sent a single text, or even visit his house, in over two weeks. But, by now, he's probably just as excited as Norman is to hear the news from the contest judges. If he won, he'd been getting the chance of a lifetime, attending the single, most professional convention in his career. Okay, so maybe his _future_ career; he wasn't quite out of high school _yet_.

He opened a reply to the text message when he heard footsteps. He immediately looked up, and there was the man he'd been waiting for, dressed in a dull navy blue. His social anxiety left him, for once, as he rushed up to the aforementioned man, begging for today's mail. The pungent man glanced at him with a confused grimace, but then reached into his bag, pulling out a small bundle of envelopes.

"Here ya go, kid," he told Norman, handing the bundle over, and slowly continuing on his route. Norman couldn't keep the butterflies in his stomach from stirring up, and his hands started to shake as he tossed his parents' bills behind him, into the yard, searching for the one thing he wanted to see today.

And, there, at the back of the stack, was a crisp, white envelope, emblazoned with his name. He stared at it in awe before he finally flipped it over, and ripped the back tab completely off in sheer impatience. The letter was torn from the now-crumpled envelope and unfolded in a matter of milliseconds.

Norman's eyes glided directly to the body of text in the middle of the page, not bothering with all the professional mumbo-jumbo on the rest of it.

"_Blah-blah-blah_," he read aloud under his breath, skimming through the sentences, "Thank you for entering…_blah-blah-blah_." He continued down, trying to find what he was looking for, "We wish to inform you…"

* * *

"…that while you are OUR WINNER of the MiParaCon 3 essay contest…!" Dipper shouted out the best part of the sentence, and glanced up from the page to watch his sister's reaction. She smiled wide, and started bouncing up and down in excitement.

He looked back down at the letter, continuing,

"…there was a small error in our judging process."

* * *

"…Our group of judges was unable to choose only one winner, and it is only fair to notify you that you will not be the only one with a free, 3-day pass to our convention this year…"

* * *

"…You will receive your prize(s) as promised, and all expenses will be paid. Your essay will still be featured in its own panel; however, this will be shared with our other winner, as well."

Dipper frowned. It was great that he'd actually won—HE'D ACTUALLY WON—but he was going to have to share his victory with some random stranger from across the country! There was only supposed to be one winner. This wasn't fair at all!

Mabel noticed his change in expression, and stopped her bouncing.

"Dipper? What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"I have to share the panel? I have to share everything!" he grumbled, "This is stupid! Why didn't they just pick MY essay, and only MINE?!"

Mabel frowned, placing her hands on her hips.

"Dipper," she pursed her lips, "There is nothing wrong with sharing! You share stuff with me all the time!"

"That's exactly why I don't wanna share anything with some random guy!" he shouted, waving the letter in emphasis. Mabel rolled her eyes,

"You still won the money. You still won the 3-day pass. You still get your own, freakin' PANEL! What more do you want?!"

* * *

Norman, now sitting in the front lawn of his house, having fallen over after his short outburst of excitement after having learned he'd actually won—HE'D ACTUALLY WON—was smiling wider than he'd probably ever done in his entire life. Who cares if he had to share his victory?! He'd WON! For once in his pathetic life, he'd actually won something, and it was all through hard work and treating ghosts with the respect they deserved! This was amazing! This was astounding! This was the greatest day of his life! And with that, he was back on his feet, shaking with excitement. He glanced down, one more time, reading the last statement,

"Unfortunately, the board was unable to book more than one hotel room reservation due to every hotel within a mile of the convention center being full for the complete 3 days and 2 nights during the convention. You may have to share the hotel room with our other winner."

* * *

**Next Chapter: ****Bogolicious Deal**

**Stay Tuned!**


	2. Chapter 2: Bogolicious Deal

**Chapter Two: ****Bogolicious Deal**

**Trigger Warnings: Mild Language ****_(It's ONE word)_**

**Word Count: 1,094**

* * *

The plane tickets came in the mail later that week, along with another letter, explaining what to do when he arrived in SSM, Michigan. Looks like they really were going to be giving him the VIP treatment, which was obviously well-earned.

Dipper stuffed the letter in his pocket, and reached up to adjust his hat. He glanced up for just a moment, noticing that a brand-new neon pink poster was covering the corner of his half-sized, vintage ABBA one. He groaned,

"Mabel…"

He stomped down the hallway, following the distant sound of incessant humming. It led him into the kitchen, where his sister was sitting at the table, listening to her iPod and stitching up a hole in one of her old sweaters. He walked up, slamming his hand down on the table, making her jump in her seat.

"Oh! Dipper!" she replied, startled, "What's going on?"

She smiled innocently, but he continued to glare her down.

"What's wrong _now_?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice this time. Dipper crossed his arms before replying with a scowl,

"You put that damn poster of yours on MY SIDE of the room!"

Mabel rolled her eyes, keeping a smile on her lips.

"You're crazy. I checked before I put it up, Dippy," she told him, going back to her sweater. Dipper leaned in,

"Oh, really? You _checked_?" he sneered, "Well, you obviously didn't measure it correctly, because it's CLEARLY on MY SIDE of our room!"

Mabel groaned,

"Will you stop freaking out? What does it even matter?"

Dipper shot her one last glare before turning around,

"We split the room evenly for a REASON, Mabel! I don't want your stuff on my side!"

Mabel frowned,

"Where are you going?" she asked, a little concerned.

Dipper sighed,  
"I'm gonna talk to Dad and see if he'll reconsider my offer for once."

"You _know_ he won't," she told him, "Face it, bro, you're stuck with me! Just deal with it!"

"I refuse to put up with this anymore!" Dipper stormed away and to the front porch. He glanced around, noticing the garage door was opened. He dashed over to the garage, finding his father inside.

"Hey, Dad," he started nonchalantly. His father didn't look up. Dipper clicked his tongue before finally continuing,

"So…what are the chances that I'll have my own room by the time I get back from the con?" he asked quickly. His father glanced back, confused,

"_What_? What are you talking about?"

Dipper frowned,

"Come on," he told him, "You can't expect me and Mabel to fit in that tiny room forever, right?"

His dad just shook his head, sighing loudly.

"Dipper," he replied, still not turning around, "I've told you before, I'm not going to force Mabel and your mother to give up that craft room."

"Why can't we just put a bed in there and make it Mabel's room?" Dipper offered desperately.

"Her bed won't fit in there," his father sighed, "You know that we've tried everything we could, little man. You'll just have to stay put until college, okay?"

Dipper groaned loudly. This was just stupid! He was never going to get his way!

"Just enjoy your trip to Michigan," he continued, "Won't you have a whole, big suite to yourself?"

Dipper narrowed his eyes,

"No," he spit out, "I won't! Because I have to—surprise, surprise—SHARE it with someone!"

"Well, at least you'll have a chance to make a new friend," his dad offered. Dipper scoffed and walked away. There was never any point in trying to get what he wanted around here. His dad was just as effeminate as his mom and his sister. It was like he was the only man in this house, and it was way too frustrating.

He stomped back inside, only to be ambushed by his sister, holding up her fixed sweater.

"Check it out, Dipper!" she exclaimed, and quickly pulled the sweater over her head.

"It still fits!"

Dipper rolled his eyes with a sigh and made his way to his-_their_ room. Mabel quickly followed behind, asking,

"Are you gonna wanna borrow one of my sweaters for your trip, Dippy? I hear it can get chilly over there! You gotta be prepared!"

Dipper slammed the bedroom door, keeping Mabel from entering. He heard her pause and then walk back to the kitchen before he walked over to his bed, pulled out his half-filled suitcase, and hastily finished packing.

* * *

His parents were at it again.

Norman sat on the steps to his house, trying to ignore the incessant arguing between his mother and father. The flight wasn't scheduled to leave for almost another two hours, but his dad never liked being late. He glanced over and cringed as his father carelessly tossed his laptop bag into the trunk and slammed down the lid. Oh, well, it's just a piece of junk, anyway…

He started to pull out his cell phone when he heard a familiar voice nearby. He stood up, walking up to the fence, and he glanced down the sidewalk to see Neil and Salma walking towards him, hand-in-hand. Neil was chatting the poor girl's ear off until he noticed Norman walk up to meet them.

"Hey, guys! I didn't think you were gonna make it," he told them sheepishly, motioning to his parents shuffling around and getting into the old station wagon in the driveway.

Neil told him that he would have gotten there earlier, had Salma not stopped by his place first, making sure he hadn't been wasting his time all day and actually completed his homework. Salma rolled her eyes and turned back to Norman,

"Congrats, by the way, on the essay. I'm surprised you did not need my assistance with your paper. I would have expected an offer to proofread, in the least, but it seems it was unnecessary. After all, you did actually _win _their contest."

Norman smiled weakly. Salma's compliments were always disguised like insults, but he did his best to accept them.

"Uhm, thanks," he replied. Suddenly, a loud honk came from the car parked in the driveway, and his father shouted for him to get in. He glanced back, starting towards the car, but turned back to wave at his friends before running up to the car and getting in. The car started with a loud sputter of the engine, and they were quickly off to the airport.

Before his parents could even start, Norman pulled out his iPod, shoving the earphones into his ears and pressing play.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Plane and Ordinary**

**Get what I did there? No? Okay. Stupid joke; my bad.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Mix-Up

**Dipper vs Norman**  
**Chapter Three:** The Mix-Up

**Word Count:** 2, 385  
**Warnings:** Some language

**Sorry for the wait, guys! I know a lot of you wanted this one to update, so this is my gift to all of you! Not the greatest gift, I know...**

**But, yeah. Dipper is still being a freakin' jerk and the POV-switching is starting to bother me, but it'll be necessary in later chapters. If you have any suggestions for that, let me know, because I'm at a loss on how to get it just right at this point...**

**The layout of the hotel is based on the Ameristar Casino & Hotel in Council Bluffs, Iowa (because I used to work there for a while and it's still fresh in my mind). **

**Anyway, I don't own Gravity Falls or Paranorman or any of their respective characters. **

* * *

After the very long, very boring plane ride from Hell, Dipper walked into the baggage claim area and noticed a man holding a sign with his name on it. He quickly shouldered his duffel bag as he silently thanked whatever overseeing entity got them to use his nickname of seventeen years and not the stupid one he'd gotten at birth. Now, if only he could convince the graduation board next year to do the same...  
He walked up to the man and they shook hands before he was lead quietly to a black car parked outside. He climbed in and watched the Michigan scenery pass by out the window as the driver silently took them to the resort hotel in which the convention would be taking place. When they arrived, Dipper couldn't help but stare up at the enormous building, with two-no, three!-clear, glass elevators going all the way to the top floor. His room might just be huge after all! (He mentally high-fived himself. Score!) He'd still have to share it, but maybe-just maybe-he could make it work? He shrugged to himself and slung his duffle bag over one shoulder as he headed inside to check in.

* * *

Norman had certainly enjoyed the plane ride. He hadn't ridden in one for quite some time, but it was soothing, at least when there wasn't a random ghost or two that happened to enter the plane like it wasn't just floating around hundreds of thousands of feet in the sky.  
But he sat back and listened to some music, even caught himself dozing off more than once-which was a feat in and of itself-and he couldn't help but wonder what other surprising delights this mini-vacation might bring him.  
After he arrived, he entered the baggage claim area, instantly noticing a man with a white paper with his name written on it. He smiled and walked over. The man smiled back.  
"You must be Norman. I'm Phil," he told him. "Go ahead and grab your bags. The car is parked just out this door."  
Norman ran over to grab his small suitcase (covered in zombie stickers, as usual), and followed the kind man outside and into a midsize sedan. Phil, the driver, pulled on a cap and started the car. Norman gazed out the window at the setting sun and the way it made the city glow as they drove through it.  
"So, you are here for the 'ghostie convention,' huh? I hear that one is fun. I might go one day myself."  
Norman grinned,  
"Well, they have plenty to do if you decide to go. I'm sure you'd like it."  
Phil laughed,  
"Oh, I know I'd like it. Ghosts, UFOs, conspiracy theories? I love the History channel too much to _not_ enjoy myself there."  
Norman let out a quick laugh. He normally found it so difficult to talk to people, especially complete strangers, but this guy made it easy. Another sign that this convention was going to be great.  
They arrived at the resort and Norman thanked him for the ride, grabbing his suitcase and walking towards the entrance.  
_'Boy, this place sure is big...'_ He thought as he gazed at all the outer decor. He looked back at the doors a moment too late as he tried to stop from walking right into another guy in front of him.  
He bumped into him, quickly apologizing. The other teenager-or at least, he seemed about his age from behind, but the amount of facial hair might prove otherwise-shot him a quick glare before adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder and pushing past him to walk into the lobby.  
Norman sighed, slowly following his behind him. So much for his good fortune...

* * *

"Yeah, I know about that-"  
Norman glanced around the lobby as he made his way to the front desk. The guy from moments before was stressfully trying to say something to the tired-looking woman behind the counter. She pursed her lips as she stared down at her computer monitor.  
"Yes, yes. You must be... Mr. Pines, I take it?"  
"Yeah."  
The woman looked passed him, toward Norman.  
"And are you Mr. Babcock?"  
Norman quickly turned around and bit his lip at the realization that they were staring at him.  
He swallowed dryly and stepped closer,  
"Y-yeah. That's me," he replied.  
The woman pulled out a folded paper and opened it on the counter. She placed a pen down, too, explaining they both needed to sign so that the convention would be charged with the King suite booking.  
"Well-"  
"Is there any other room available?"  
Norman blinked. A king suite would not be ideal. He ought to have asked that himself.  
The woman went back to her computer. She inhaled and tapped her long nails on her chin a moment.  
"We do have a double suite, but it'll need to be cleaned before you can check in."  
"That's perfect."  
Norman blinked again. Was he really needed for this conversation? He really wasn't contributing anything at this point.  
"I don't know about you, but I have tried to share a bed with my sister before and it was the worst experience of my life. I'd rather not repeat that fiasco," the teen laughed, turning back to him. Norman was confused for a moment but nodded back.  
"Two beds are always better than one," he muttered quietly, unsure whether making a joke was the best decision. The other seemed to pick up on it, though, letting out a quick laugh.  
The woman behind the desk asked them if they could sign the paper and then wait in the lounge while their room was prepared. Two scribbles and some lifting of luggage later, Norman sat back on a very uncomfortable couch and watched as his roommate-to-be sat across from him in a matching loveseat.  
"So..." He began, "I'm Dipper. Looks like we're gonna be bunking together, huh?"  
Norman noted the elevation in his voice and the grinding of teeth for a moment, but chose to ignore it.  
"I'm Norman," he told him. "And I guess we are."  
Dipper sighed to himself and stretched back on the sofa.  
"You know, my sister was hopin' you'd be a girl," he blurted out, "so she could make yet another friend to talk to 24/7."  
Norman smiled,  
"You sister has a lot of friends, hmm?"  
"You have no idea..."  
Norman let out a quick laugh. This wasn't so bad, after all.  
"You must have had one hell of an essay to tie-up the grand prize," Dipper noted, looking up at the skylight. Norman bit his lip, suddenly addressing the issue at hand.  
"Are you really okay with sharing a hotel room with...well, me?"  
Dipper waved him off,  
"I got nothin' worth stealing-no iPod, no laptop, no fancy techno-crap-so I trust ya. The only thing of value I got on me is up here," he poked himself in the head, "and that's not goin' nowhere!"  
Norman cringed at the double-negative, but smiled just the same. At least Dipper kind of trusted him, so that was definitely a good start.  
Norman straightened in his seat. He glanced around the lobby again, looking up to the darkening sky through the skylight, towards the out-of-place fireplace nearby, to the woman standing at the front desk. He paused as he noticed something move behind the woman. Another ghost, he noticed. He watched as the ghostly man walked through the counter and down towards the restaurants before disappearing inside the bakery that didn't seem to be open. He sighed, at least there weren't as many here as back home.

* * *

_'Boy, this sure is boring…'_

Dipper was eyeing Norman. It wasn't to be creepy, but speculative. The guy just seemed to stare all over the place, like he was casing the joint-badly, he might add-or something. This kid was definitely younger than him, seeing as he was practically made of twigs under all that baggy clothes. Norman didn't seem too impressed with his "true grit" routine, so maybe he needed to play up the smarts next?  
He adjusted his hat before sinking into the sofa, making a quick glance at the front desk. That lady was still standing there. Dipper wondered how long he was going to have to sit in the stupidly-uncomfortable loveseat before they could go up to their room.  
"They have a lot of restaurants in here..." Norman said to no one in particular. Dipper sat up and looked around. The kid was right; there was a noisy bar, a boring bakery, and a huge buffet place. There could be more beyond what he could see, but he'd have to check it out later.  
"I definitely gotta get some chow when we get to our room," he told him nonchalantly.  
"Yeah," Norman agreed. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, so..."  
He trailed off and Dipper found himself eyeing the guy again. No wonder he was just skin and bones...

* * *

The next half-hour felt more like ten as the two sat there, mostly in silence, waiting for the room to be ready. Norman eventually took out his iPod, ignoring the growing noise as people walked in and out of the enormous lobby.  
Finally, the woman from the front desk walked over, smiling with her seriously-tired eyes.  
"Your room's all ready!"  
Norman stood and thanked her.  
She pulled out an envelope and two room key cards, handing them to Norman as Dipper grabbed his bag.  
"Room 648; just take the elevators to the top floor and it's the very last room on the left."  
Norman nodded and looked down at the key cards as Dipper leaned in and snatched one away.  
"In the envelope are some different cards. You can use them to pay for anything you might need while you're here," she continued. "We offer room service, but we also have quite a few restaurants in the hotel, near the casino. If there's anything you need, just call down to the front desk and I'll help you out."  
Dipper rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the elevator, Norman waving goodbye as he tried to follow closely behind.  
"Geez, that chick could talk, huh?" Dipper joked as he pushed the button to call the elevator. Norman nodded, not sure what to say.

* * *

The room was enormous. The overpowering smell of bleach and febreze assaulted them as they walked in, passing a fair-sized bathroom near the door, a minibar and coffee counter, a fully-accommodated kitchenette, a large (actually comfortable-looking) couch, two recliners, two 50" plasma TVs, nine windows (each with a great view), another much larger bathroom, and the two queen beds...that barely had any walking space between them, but that was probably because they jammed so much other stuff into the room first, right?  
Dipper immediately claimed the bed closest to the windows, chucking his duffel bag onto the pillows from five feet away and leaving the bed by the bathroom door for Norman. The boys set up shop, unpacking essentials for the night and kicking back. Norman wandered to one of the recliners, flipping on the huge TV screen. He clicked through the channels, annoyed by the lack of a channel guide and that nothing interesting seemed to be on, so he settled on Adventure Time.  
Dipper kicked back on his bed, pulling out his trusty book from Gravity Falls (okay, maybe not-so-trusty), and going over a few notes. His panel tomorrow was going to be overshadowed by Norman's probably quiet and maybe even really short essay review, so he needed to make sure he gave that audience what they came for-personal accounts on scary monster attacks, of course! He was determined to look cooler than this Norman kid, no matter what.  
After taking down some notes for tomorrow, Dipper's stomach growled and he sat up. It was starting to get a bit late, so maybe he-or, uhh, _they_-should get something to eat.  
He walked into the living room area and scoffed at what was on the TV.  
"Don't you know cartoons are for babies?" He taunted. Norman merely rolled his eyes, indifferent.

* * *

The two agreed to find a restaurant in the hotel for dinner. They walked through the lobby, eyeing their choices. One option was a dimly-lit diner that served steak and had a big fireplace in the middle where you could roast marshmallows (among other things). Another was a sports bar that reeked of beer and corn dogs. Then, there was the bakery that was completely empty, its main customers only there for breakfast and lunch. And lastly, there was a huge buffet, with a ridiculously large selection of food from all over the world. The place was packed, but Dipper and Norman both agreed it'd be ideal.  
It became obvious right away that neither of them knew how to adequately keep up a conversation. Norman kept glancing over at a ghost in valet, wandering around the front entrance of the casino, trying to smile and address the customers entering, but no one ever saw the poor fellow. He sighed, sinking in his chair as white noise penetrated the space between him and Dipper.  
He was starting to second-guess his 'certain luck' now that he'd spent more time around this guy. "Dipper" seemed a bit-well, to put it rather frankly-_rude_, and he knew that they were going to butt heads at some point during this excursion. He could just tell; it was going to happen.  
Something seemed completely off about the guy, but he wasn't naive enough to believe he was thinking the very same of him.

* * *

And he was right. Dipper felt like he was gonna get a headache from the ridiculous silence he was having to endure from this kid. Either this guy was way too quiet or he was getting too used to his sister yakking his ear off at all hours of the day. Why didn't he just _say_ something? Is he gonna be like this the whole time?

Dipper sighed, grabbing a fry and popping it into his mouth.

So far, this trip hasn't been as exciting as he'd hoped.


End file.
